AMFM Magazine Exclusive by Paul Salfen, Christine Thompson
In a landscape where fairy tales get twisted into nightmares, Norwegian filmmaker Emilie Blichfeldt‘s debut feature The Ugly Stepsister (Den stygge stesøsteren) has emerged as one of the most talked-about films of recent years. This satirical black comedy body horror reimagines the classic Cinderella story from the perspective of Elvira, one of the “ugly” stepsisters, who will stop at nothing—including gruesome self-mutilation—to win the prince’s affection in a kingdom where beauty is a brutal, cutthroat business.
Go Big or Go Home…Bleeding: The making of a Sundance-to-Oscars Cinderella shocker
Premiering in the Midnight section at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival and going on to win Best Feature Film at Sitges, earn an Academy Award nomination for Best Makeup and Hairstyling, and captivate audiences at festivals like Berlin and Overlook, the film has defied expectations for a low-budget Norwegian genre debut. Its visceral “beauty horror” explores the tyranny of unattainable standards, drawing from body horror masters like David Cronenberg and the grim Brothers Grimm tale where stepsisters slice their feet to fit the glass slipper.
In this exclusive interview with AMFM Magazine’s Paul Salfen, director Emilie Blichfeldt, prosthetic makeup artist Thomas Foldberg and makeup artist Anne Sauerberg share the journey from humble beginnings to global acclaim. The conversation captures the excitement of a film that “took us totally by surprise” and continues to gain momentum amid awards buzz.
Blichfeldt reflects on set: “Having the vision in my head… it’s a very ambitious movie tonally, with the humor and the horror and the dresses.” She recalls the pivotal moment wrapping the film’s bold, intense sequence shot in just two days: “I was like, okay, maybe we’ll have a movie.”
The “go big or go home” spirit permeated the 28 grueling shooting days: Thomas said “There was just something about it where [we felt], okay, we gotta do this.” He shares a personal anecdote—spotting the mood board via a costume designer friend and instantly knowing, “Oh my God, it’s just me. I want to do this movie so much.” Meeting Blichfeldt sealed it: “It went so smooth… her visions were really, really easy and delicious to dive into.”
The discussion turns inspirational. Asked for advice to aspiring filmmakers, Blichfeldt emphasizes belief: “If you don’t believe in your vision, who the hell is going to believe in that? Dare to believe… and choose the people who see it.” She stresses collaboration: “It’s the power and magic of moviemaking… the movie becomes bigger than [you].” Her teammate adds: “Just start. Don’t believe that you can do everything from your first movie. Never give up… do the things that you’re scared of.”
On personal growth, the team highlights perseverance through long nights—whether in a Warsaw basement or the makeup trailer. Blichfeldt calls it her “most beautiful experience”: turning an imagined story into reality “even better than I could ever imagine,” learning she doesn’t have to do it alone and can be bolder in future visions.
Although shooting on film would have been a dream, the logistical and budgetary demands of this debut feature—featuring a large cast, castles, animals, practical effects, and a grand ball—made it impractical. Fortunately, director of photography Marcel Zyskind brought his passion for celluloid to the digital format, achieving a tactile, film-like quality through in-camera techniques, heavy filters, vaseline applications, and playful zooms that give the movie its enchanting yet gritty “uncanny” realism.
Finding the right locations was its own adventure. On the final day of scouting, the team discovered the enchanting Gołuchów Castle in Poland, which became central to the film. The prince’s castle proved more elusive, but they ultimately secured the breathtaking ballroom of the Cistercian monastery ruin near the Polish village of Lubiąż (Lubiaz Abbey). Poland’s extensive restoration efforts proved invaluable—preserving these architectural treasures after historical challenges, including wartime looting. For instance, Gołuchów Castle’s hand-painted wallpaper, stolen by the Nazis, was painstakingly recreated by local artists in the 1950s and 60s. Blichfeldt notes that the state of restorations (or lack thereof) became one of the biggest production hurdles: “This film has made me aware of how important it is that we take care of our cultural heritage, and that the restoration needs to be of top quality for it not to be even more damaging to these artistic masterpieces.”
The Ugly Stepsister stands as a testament to bold vision and relentless execution. Blichfeldt’s personal exploration of body image and femininity—through Elvira’s agonizing quest—delivers discomfort, empathy, and reflection in equal measure. As it continues its theatrical run and streaming success (via Shudder and IFC), this “good, ugly little movie” proves that sometimes, going big really does pay off.
Congratulations to Emilie Blichfeldt and the entire team on this remarkable achievement. The fairy tale may be grim, but the future looks bright.
